


TEETH

by wickedarcher_08



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood Kink, Come Eating, Comeplay, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hate Sex, Humor, M/M, Magic, One Shot, Rough Sex, Scratching, Slayer! Louis, Smut, Vampire Bites, Wall Sex, Well it is now, is that a thing?, vampire! harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedarcher_08/pseuds/wickedarcher_08
Summary: Harry and Louis start the night off with their friends like they would any other Halloween, but then things take a strange turn.___________Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweetTalk so pretty, but your heart got teethLate night devil, put your hands on meAnd never, never, never ever let go





	TEETH

**Author's Note:**

> I've missed you guys!!!! Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I was afraid that I wouldn't get this done on time because I've been so busy, but I've always been pretty good at making deadlines! Here it is! I hope you enjoy it! It is my normal type of fic, you know... smutty, humors, flirtations, and somewhat dark. 
> 
> I want to take a moment to thank my two betas Linda and Dana. They are amazing, and I love them so very much.

“Why are we going into a magic shop?” Louis asks, his eyes rolling so far back into his skull he almost runs into a trash can along the sidewalk. His black leather pants squeak as he walks, but they aren't that uncomfortable. He can move in them pretty easily.

“Because it’s Halloween,” Niall responds, as if that isn't obvious. Niall opens a purple door to a small shop along the street, the smell of various incense sticks filling Louis’ nostrils as soon as the barrier is broken. The chime of the bell above signals their arrival. Harry grabs the door from Niall, holding it open for their small group, all dressed in various costumes. 

“But what are we doing here?” Louis insists, looking around the somewhat crowded shop. The first thing he notices are bins full of various stones in a variety of different colors. Louis didn’t even know rocks came in such tones, but they look real. Some are shiny, while others are matte. There are two girls looking through them, holding a few of them up to the light to inspect them. 

“Thought it would be cool to go to a magic shop on Halloween,” Liam answers, picking up a box labeled ‘Tarot Cards’ before shrugging and sitting it back down, his fake mesh fabric glinting dully in the dim light of the store. When Liam told him of his plans to dress as a Knight for Halloween, Louis wasn’t at all surprised. It is definitely a very ‘Liam’ costume, to put it bluntly. 

“You don’t believe in all of this shit do you?” Louis asks, turning to their group who are now scattered throughout the store. Ashton shrugs, slinging his arm around Luke’s waist. Liam and Niall just ignore his question completely. Louis turns to Harry, desperation making his features scrunch. 

“It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus, Lou,” Harry responds, his red painted lip twitching on one side, and Louis wants to fucking choke him. 

“I swear to God, Harold, if you quote Hocus Pocus one more time tonight, you really will be dead,” Louis warns, pointing his finger at his friend. Harry for his part just smiles, his dimples popping on his pale face. Louis wants to swoon. He has had a crush on Harry for the longest time, but he pretends he doesn’t. Harry is so far out of his league, it is ridiculous really. 

“Hey… what do you have against dead people?” Luke asks, looking down at his costume in offence. 

“Don’t even get me started on you and Ashton, and your disgusting display at being a couple. Who even thinks to dress as a ghost and a Ghostbuster for Halloween. Seriously?” Louis looks at Ashton dressed in his brown jumpsuit with his fake proton pack resting in his giant hands. He has to admit, the jumpsuit looks good on him, but that isn’t the point. The point is, it’s disgusting how cute they are. 

“You and Harry are wearing complimentary costumes,” Ashton replies, a smirk firmly in place as he tangles the fingers of his free hand with Luke’s. Ashton is the only person that knows about Louis’ small crush and has been harassing him for months to ask Harry out. Louis doesn’t want to mess up their group's friendship dynamic, at least that’s what he is telling himself. He thinks Luke knows his secret because Ashton tells him everything, and he is smiling at Louis with straight white teeth, blue eyes gleaming and somehow appearing more blue with the dark eye shadow painted around them, giving him a haunting appearance. 

“We are not,” Louis scoffs indignantly, crossing his arms over his small frame, the sound of his leather pants squeaking with the movement. He hears footsteps behind him. He knows it’s Harry. He would recognize the slow cadence of his steps anywhere, as his boot clad feet hit the wooden floor with a muted the thud, his heal first, followed by his slightly inward turned toes. He doesn’t turn to look, too busy glaring at Ashton who is still fucking smirking. 

“What? You didn’t plan to match Harry?” Liam asks, looking at them in disbelief. 

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Niall adds, rubbing his hands together as if given a bag full of candy. Louis doesn’t break eye contact with Asthon as he takes a moment to flip Niall off. Niall just laughs joyfully, and Louis wants to kill him, too. 

“We aren’t matching,” Louis insist, glancing over at Harry. He can hear the lie in his own voice, but he needs to stick by his statement at this point. 

“Umm… Lou… I’m not sure if you’ve realized this, but Harry is dressed as a vampire and you’re dressed as a vampire slayer. That’s the very definition of matching,” Liam says slowly, as if Louis needs the extra time to understand.

“No, Li, I was completely and utterly unaware of this fact. I thought I had wooden stakes strapped to me because I am making giant lollipops, and Harry was wearing fake fangs for his health,” Louis responds with an eyeroll. 

“But you said you were gonna go as a slayer to match me,” comes Harry’s deep voice from beside him. Louis’ head snaps to the sound. Harry's fake fang is poking his full bottom lip, the pale makeup making it appear more red than it normally is, the fake blood on either side blending in. He looks almost hurt by Louis’ reaction, and Louis can feel himself deflating. He knows he wanted to match Harry. He just didn’t want the others to know, nor Harry thinking it was weird that his friend wanted to dress in something that matches. He is pretty much friendzoned with Harry, and never wanted to come off as desperate. He just thought it would be fun. 

“I- I did. I just. I- I didn’t think that you actually wanted me to match you,” Louis says, turning towards him, but keeping his eyes low and his voice lower. He is painfully aware that the eyes of all of their friends are on him right now. 

“Of course, I did. That’s why I told you about my costume idea in the first place. I wanted to see if you had an idea to match mine. Thought it would be cute,” Harry tells him l, and Louis’ head snaps up to meet his green eyes, a hint of amusement dancing among the forest of colors. One side of his lip is turned up into a half smile, and Louis very much wants to kiss him. 

“Ha!” Ashton shouts, triumphantly, breaking Louis out of his Harry filled trance. 

“Shut it, dickface. Nobody asked you. We matched our costumes as friends. Friends do that all the time, you know,” Louis responds, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder and bringing him close. Harry is a lot taller than him with his heeled boots, so Louis’ hand quickly drops to Harry’s waist. Harry leans in to him making Louis acutely aware of every breath he takes. Jesus. How does Harry make breathing sexy? 

“Yeah. Friends,” Harry echos, but it sounds almost hollow. Before Louis has time to ponder the change in tone, he gets distracted by the shopkeeper commenting on Niall’s attire. 

“Thanks. I love a punny costume,” Niall responds, looking down at his white shirt with the word ‘LIFE’ written on it to appear like the board game, then he holds up his basket of lemons. Every year, Niall goes with a punny costume, and every year Louis has to begrudgingly hand him the creativity points. 

They spend the next few minutes in the magic shop, their group breaking off into pairs. Ashton and Luke are looking at some jewelry, Ashton pointing to a ring while Luke smiles and laughs at whatever his boyfriend is saying. Niall and Liam are in the corner, looking through what appears to be an ancient book, its pages brown and weathered. Louis has found himself with Harry, of course, watching Harry’s ring clad fingers skim over the surface of various sets of runes. 

“I like the black ones,” Harry says, finally, the pad of his finger gently skimming over the surface of a shiny stone with a gold symbol on it. Louis smiles, figuring that set would be Harry’s choice. Harry is the very definition of an oxymoron. The boy can be found wearing pink frilly blouses, but there has always been a certain darkness about him. He illuminates everything he touches, mesmerizing in a way that exudes an energy that only Harry can produce. Louis knows that he has it bad for his best friend, but he is also painfully aware of the fact that he can’t actually touch what he sees. He can just admire from afar, only staring when no one is looking because he is just so damn beautiful, he simply can’t help himself. 

“Are you gonna get into witchcraft, young Harold?” Louis asks. He can feel the fond on his face, but he doesn’t bother to mask it.

“I dunno. Maybe,” Harry answers with a shrug, then walks towards the display of incense. Louis takes another moment to admire him in his ridiculously tight black skinny jeans, a black, sheer blouse with about two point seven buttons done up. His curls are hanging loose down his back, just as they should be. Louis has had to stop himself from running his fingers through them on more than one occasion. He knows they smell lovely from the countless times Harry has laid his head on Louis’ shoulder or hugged him, like vanilla and some sort of flower that Louis doesn’t know the name of but is sure it is beautiful. He is pretty much dressed as he normally is, sans cross necklace. Louis is currently wearing that around his own neck, borrowing it for his outfit. Harry just added some white makeup to his face, fake fangs, and blood to make himself be a vampire. 

“You know, if you did, I would support you. I know you’ve always said you were a bit more spiritual, so it would make sense that you would be interested,” Louis tells him, standing beside Harry at the display. Jesus tits, he didn’t realize there were so many fucking herbs someone could burn. 

“Thank you. Let’s just start with being a vampire first,” Harry says, smiling so wide, his dimples pop. His fake fangs almost look real, and Louis suddenly wants to be bitten by them. He never took himself as someone with a blood fetish, but here he is. They aren’t real though, so maybe Louis can just imagine what it would feel like if Harry bit him with dull teeth later. 

__________

“What?” Harry asks, completely distracted for the one thousand four hundred and sixty seventh time this evening by the sight of Louis’ ass in his ridiculously tight leather pants. His ass jiggles perfectly, each cheek rising up and down with every single step he takes. It’s mesmerizing, and Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes on anything else. Seriously, how did he even get those on? They may as well be a second skin at this point with the way they are molding to his hips and thick thighs. Jesus, Harry needs to be careful. It is hard to conceal a boner when you’re wearing very tight black jeans. 

“If you would stop staring at Louis’ ass for five fucking seconds, then you may have heard me,” Niall says, hanging back to walk beside him. Liam is on his other side; Luke, Ashton, and Louis are walking a few feet in front of them. Luke is laughing hysterically at something Ashton and Louis are saying. To be fair, it probably is hilarious. It always seems to happen when those two are together. “I asked if you remembered to turn on your location for your phone on so we can find each other in case we get separated?” 

“Shh,” Harry chastises, almost losing a fang when he does it. He glances ahead, to make sure Louis isn’t paying attention. He can feel his cheeks heating up. Liam looks like he feels bad on Niall’s behalf, but Niall is smiling like a loon. “Yes, I did. Now keep your fucking voice down.” 

“I don’t know why you don’t just ask him out. Jesus, you both flirt so much, it is almost Lashton levels of disgusting. You are attached at the hip, practically dating already. May as well make it official,” Niall says, keeping his voice low this time, thank God. 

“Stop calling them Lashton. They hate that.” Harry rolls his eyes, hoping that the change in subject will deter Niall away from the previous conversation. 

“Oh please. They love it. They eat that shit up. Plus, it’s easier than saying Ashton and Luke all the damn time,” Niall reasons with a shrug. Harry almost lets out a sigh of relief that his plan worked. “Stop trying to change the subject. Why don’t you ask Lou out? There is so much sexual tension between you, it makes me wanna lock you in a room together until you start tongue fucking each other.” Damn. No such luck. 

“He just likes me as a friend. You heard him at the magic shop. He said ‘friend’ loud and clear, Ni.” Harry tries to keep the hurt from his voice, but he can hear it waver. He glances up at Louis who is smiling in the pale moonlight. He is so beautiful this way. Smiling when he thinks no one is actually paying attention to him. Louis should always be bathed in moonlight. 

“He was lying,” Liam chimes in. Harry rolls his eyes, looking over at him as if to say ‘not helping’. Liam just shrugs, the fake plastic chain 'metal' glinting in the light of the street lamps above. They just finished handing out candy to kids at a trunk-or-treat event. They are on the way to God knows where now to get drunk and party. It’s starting to cool down, and Harry has been rethinking his sheer blouse for the last half hour. 

“What the fuck?” Louis exclaims, stopping so quickly, Harry runs into him. His ass feels firm on Harry’s crotch, and no... he definitely doesn’t need to go there. Then he realizes what Louis’ outburst was about. All of the lights on the street went out. 

“Power outage?” Harry asks, shivering as a cold wind blows by them. It’s colder than it has been and almost feels eerie. It’s Halloween, and there is a full moon however Harry knows he needs to be rational. A power outage isn’t that out of the ordinary, and the weather has been getting colder. A wind means nothing. 

“Halt! Who goeth there!” Liam exclaims suddenly, holding his fake sword out and stepping in front of everyone. 

“Li, what the fuck are you doing?” Louis asks, grabbing Liam’s arm, but Liam is too busy staring at the headlights of an approaching vehicle. 

“Tis a beast,” Liam says, pointing with his sword at the car. He looks completely serious, his face set in stone in the moonlight. Chillbumps erupt on Harry's skin that has nothing to do with the cold breeze currently pulling his long curls back off his shoulders. 

“Stop being a dickhead. We’re gonna be late.” Ashton smacks Liam on the shoulder, but Liam doesn’t budge. He holds up his shield as if to defend them, but the shield looks different. Gone is the chipping silver paint that looked cheap and fake. It looks real and heavy. Confusion floods Harry’s brain, but he can feel the fear creeping in on him, like long spindling fingers or an unknown demon. 

“'Twill be’est mine own hon'r to defend this kingdom from the beast,” Liam says, and a chill runs down Harry’s spine, his gut dropping. Liam never does this. He isn’t one to prank, and Harry feels sick. What the fuck is going on? 

“Li, come on, man. It’s not funny anymore. Stop,” Harry begs, pulling on Liam’s fake chain metal, that suddenly feels like actual metal instead of plastic. He looks around him again, wanting to grab Louis’ hand in comfort, but that’s not what friends do. The lights are still out, the round moon bright in the sky. The cold wind has picked up even more, blowing leaves around them almost as if they are dancing with the ghost of unknown children that would play on the road. Harry is starting to get that feeling in his stomach that only comes when he is watching a stupid fucking horror film that Louis insisted they watch together. 

“I’ve nev'r seen a beast such as this,” Liam proclaims, stepping away from them, towards the quickly approaching car. Harry exchanges glances with the others, all looking worried. Liam hasn’t even had anything to drink tonight. 

“Hahahaha. Very funny, Li. Now cut that shit out. Michael is expecting us.” Harry swallows, nodding, but Liam seems to not be paying them any attention. Luke goes to reach for Liam, but his hand travels right through him. Luke’s eyes go wide, his mouth open in shock. He tries again, but his hand doesn’t touch Liam. Ashton is looking at him in concern. 

“What the fuck is happening?” Luke asks, looking at his hand which seems to be almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to process the events happening. When he opens them again, Luke’s blue eyes look haunting his face appearing somehow more pale, his lips red. He tries to reach out for Ashton, but his hand goes through the other man’s face. Ashton’s hazel eyes are wide, one large hand coming up to trace Luke’s face, but Luke disappears. 

“Where did he go?” Ashton asks, his voice on the side of hysterical as his eyes search all around them for his now missing his boyfriend. Harry swallows hard. He can feel his limbs shaking in fear. 

“Feareth not comrades, I shall protecteth thee from this beast!” Liam exclaims, snapping Harry’s attention away from Ashton. He pulls from everyone’s grip suddenly, jumping in front of the car, wielding his sword in front of him. Next thing Harry hears is the sound of screeching tires, and Niall’s shocked gasp. Harry almost screams as the car stops just inches away from Liam, a dark haired boy inside looking confused, shocked, and mildly irritated. The boy inside looks at the others, gesturing towards Liam as if to say, ‘please get your drunk friend out of my way’. 

“Liam, you almost died. Get the fuck away from there.” Niall is the first to snap out of his shock, going to grab Liam’s arm, but the other man doesn’t move. “We’re sorry, he must have had a little too much to drink already. We’ll get him home,” Niall apologizes to the dark haired stranger, waving and smiling. It’s a lie. None of them has had a drop to drink yet. 

“Doth not fear. I shall saveth the damsel from the belly of the beast!” Liam cries out, but the shrill words hurt Harry’s ears. He closes his eyes puts his hands over them, blocking out all sounds. It’s like he can hear everything all of the sudden. The bats' wings as they fly above them, eating gnats and mosquitoes. The car alarm from a street far off into the distance. The wind blowing through the trees. Louis’ heartbeat, the sound of his blood as it rushes through his veins like a small stream that is right next to Harry’s ear. He doesn't know how he knows it’s Louis’, he just does, like instinct. 

“What’s happening?” Harry asks, his voice sounding extremely loud to his own ears. He winces, opening his eyes, and when did the lights come back on? He squints, looking at the street lamps, but they remain unlit. The moon almost seems like the sun, it’s so bright to him now. He looks around. He can tell that it’s still dark, the colors of the world appearing deeper, but they are somehow just as sharp. As if Harry is seeing everything in the light of the day and not the moon. He finds Louis’ eyes, wide with panic and so blue, Harry thinks he is looking at the sky. The sun always belongs to the sky. 

“I- I don’t know,” Louis answers, his voice low, but Harry can hear him as if he is shouting. Harry winces, his mouth suddenly hurting him. He watches the fake vampire teeth fall to the ground, they click as they each hit the pavement and bounce exactly three times each before they are still. It is almost deafening. Harry’s senses feel like they are being assaulted one by one as the smell of damp leaves filter through his nostrils. It’s like he can pick out each individual drop of rain on them and which storm that drop is from. Then he smells Louis. Holy fuck. Louis. The only way Harry can describe his scent is the sun. Clean. Pure. Bright. Blinding. He smells like his. 

“Lou,” Harry says, his body suddenly feeling weird and off kilter, like gravity somehow shifted, and he didn’t know to brace himself. His breaths stops as he puts a hand on his chest, “I don’t have a heartbeat.” Harry doesn’t breath in again. Louis looks panicked. 

Danger. Harry senses danger, like warning lights going off in his skull telling him that something is nearby that could hurt him. He doesn’t even know where he is, but he needs to get away. Danger. He looks at the blue eyed boy that seems vaguely familiar for a split second before he turns to run, his body moving faster than it ever has before. He tries to resist the urge to cover his ears as the sound of his own boots hitting the pavement physically hurts his sensitive hearing. He needs to get away from here. He’s got to get away. 

He slows down when he sees the street is becoming more crowded. He squints his eyes, the street lamps above somehow feeling as though he is looking into the brightness of a flashlight. He tries to act as normal as possible, but his chest doesn’t rise and fall with breaths anymore. His heart doesn’t beat. He should feel alarmed, but he doesn’t. He feels hungry. He decides to take a breath, not because he has to, but because he wants to smell the air around him. 

The first thing he picks up is the smell of sweets. The caramel and chocolate that is being held by children walking around in their costumes. It doesn’t smell too appetizing. In fact, he ran from the most appetizing smell of the night. The blue eyed boy. He smelled… delicious. Harry’s mouth waters at the thought of tasting him. He is sure he would taste spicy, the kind that would feel like someone set his tongue on fire, but he keeps coming back for more, with just a hint of smoke. 

“Great costume! Your fangs look so real!” A girl exclaims, putting a hand on Harry’s arm to stop him, and what the fuck? He should kill her just for looking at him, stupid fucking mortals. She is swaying, and Harry can smell the sweet aroma of alcohol on her breath. She is intoxicated. Harry definitely doesn’t want to eat her, so he just hisses, baring his fangs. Her eyes go wide before she hurries away, glancing back at him before she takes off into a run. 

He continues walking, debating about chasing after her just for the fun of it, but it would be too easy. She would fall before she made it very far, her heels far too high and her body too heavy with booze. Nope. He would rather find someone else that is decidedly less drunk and more delicious. Again, his mind flashes back to the blue eyed boy. He seemed scared, his heart beating quickly, pumping blood throughout his body. Blood. Harry knows he would taste so good. 

Fuck. Harry pauses for a second, looking around. The air around him has shifted, pinpricks of electricity licking at his skin in warning. He’s being followed. He can almost feel their eyes on him, but he doesn’t see anyone. He also can’t smell them. There are too many other scents in the air around him, and he can’t pinpoint theirs. He doesn’t feel scared, though. Just exposed. He spots a nearby man in a trench coat. He grabs it, ripping it off the man’s body in one swift motion. The man protests, but a flash of Harry’s fangs has him rushing off without another sound. Harry quickly pulls it on, feeling more at home with the black leather on his body. 

Harry can still feel the eyes of the stranger on him, so he tries to act somewhat normal. They won’t attack in a crowd full of people, too many witnesses. It is an unspoken rule of the immortal world, and he is pretty sure this person isn’t human. In that moment, he decides he is going to trap them then have them as his dinner. That would make way more sense. He’s hungry, and they are obviously sober enough to be following him. If this person isn’t a human, then that would mean they would taste even better. 

He cuts through an alleyway, glancing around to find a good place to lure this victim. He can hear the echo of their very light footsteps as they follow behind him. Close enough not to lose him, but far enough away so that he can’t see them or smell them. They seem to be a skilled hunter. Too bad he is going to kill them. Maybe they will put up a bit of a fight. Harry loves a good fight after all. Makes him hungrier and maybe a bit horny, but that’s neither here nor there. 

When he turns the corner, he finds the perfect location to have dinner. He quickly and very quietly walks up the old worn out steps, the barely noticeable creak is so loud to him, he feels as though it shook the entire world. He grabs a hold of the door knob, finding it locked. A quick flick of his wrist has him breaking the lock, entering the abandoned house in a single step. He leaves the door ajar, looking around the room. 

It smells musty, as if no one has breathed the stale air in years. Harry doesn’t need to breathe it, so he doesn’t. Instead he looks around, finding cobwebs on every available surface and in every corner. Even in the dark, he can easily make out the spider in one of them, as it begins to wrap a fly for dinner. That is exactly what Harry intends to do, but first he needs to hide. He peels his eyes away from the spider and the fly’s ultimate demise. He can hear the house creak and groan around him as it settles, attempting to bare more weight than it has in a very long time. 

Harry hears the floorboards of the old porch complain with the boots of his approacher. He sees a closet under the stairs that will give him a perfect view of the door, so he slips in there, peeking through the small sliver that he left open. He watches as a small person slowly enters the house, peering around with bright blue eyes. They aren’t open wide in alarm, but slited, as if calculating. Harry recognizes those eyes. Suddenly, the boy’s scent overwhelms him, making his mouth water and his cock harden. He smells like the perfect combination of spice and smoke. 

Harry wants to take a deeper breath, but he doesn’t want to reveal his presence just yet therefore he somehow refrains. Instead, he just watches his stalker, taking in his mannerisms. He moves like the hunter he is, quietly, his steps barely making a sound on the ancient hardwood floor. Each shift of his strong limbs is calculated and powerful, the motion of a confident person who knows what he is doing. Harry is more than a little turned on, and simply can’t wait to taste him. To taste power is the ultimate high. To ingest it, taking it into yourself for your own nourishment, is a different type of europhia. 

Harry licks his lips at the sight of his leather encased thighs flexing with each small movement. Harry’s mouth waters at the thought of biting the taunt skin, sinking his teeth in to feel the muscle flex around them. His black turtleneck is doing nothing to conceal the lean muscle beneath, but it does make Harry wonder what is hidden under the fabric. Miles and miles of tan, sun-kissed skin just begging for Harry’s mark. He reaches down to palm himself, barely suppressing a moan. He didn’t think the hunt would turn him on this much, but here he is, sporting the boner of a twelve year old boy watching his mom's jazzercise videos in secret because they make him feel funny. 

He must have released a small moan because the boy’s blue eyes squint in his direction, allowing Harry to get a good look at his face, and fuck. His lips are firm and pink, surrounded by just a hint of scruff. His eyes almost glow in the dark, or that could just be Harry’s night vision. Either way, Harry could drown in them if he needed to breathe. He doesn’t though, he just needs to drink. Next, Harry’s gaze find his cheekbones, which are higher than the Gods who damned him. On them, is a smattering of freckles where the sun has kissed his beautiful tan skin, making him look almost innocent, betraying the intense energy that surrounds him. 

“I know you're here Pokey McBiter-Boy, so why don’t you come out here so we can have a little chat? Hmm?” His voice is high and raspy, throwing Harry off guard. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the gentle cadence that he found nor the witty sarcasm of his words. How does he know what Harry is? Harry scents the air again. Freckles is closer to him, so this time he can actually smell him. And… what the actual fuck? 

“Slayer,” Harry speaks, opening the door to reveal himself, but staying inside. Freckles doesn’t look startled by his outburst in the least, almost as if he knew exactly where he was hiding. 

“I prefer Louis, actually,” Freckles replies, running his hands through his coiffed hair with an exasperated sigh. He should be scared of Harry, but he’s not. Stupid slayers and their false sense of security. Harry is going to kill him slowly, savor it. He hates slayers. He is supposed to. He is a vampire, afterall, and slayers hunt his kind. One of them will die tonight, and it certainly will not be Harry. 

“Louis? Funny name for a slayer,” Harry laughs, attempting to rile the smaller man up. Instead, he just squints his eyes again, as if studying Harry. 

“Yeah, well, Curly is a funny name for a vampire, so we all have our grievances,” Louis responds with a shrug as he crosses his arms in front of is small frame. He looks like he is barely holding back an eyeroll. Harry finds himself thankful that he has because concealing those beautiful eyes is a fucking travesty.

“My name is Harry.” He has no idea why he just said that. The slayer doesn’t need to know his name, but Harry told him. He is pretending he only did it because a person deserves to know the name of the vampire that kills him. That’s all. 

“I don’t care,” Louis says, this time rolling his eyes. Harry smirks; he can’t help it. He is just so intrigued by this creature. He has never run across a slayer before, but he has heard they taste delicious if you manage to bite one. Harry is up for the challenge. That idea, paired with the easy banter, has Harry’s cock fattening. He shouldn’t be this turned on by a fucking slayer, but he is. 

“Oh, why not?” Harry asks, his tone curious as he steps fully out of the closet and closer to this boy. 

“You’ll be dead in a few minutes, especially now that you’ve come out of the closet. Judging by your outfit, I’m not surprised that you swing that way. Seriously? Sheer? Those jeans are a bit tight... Don't ya think? You can do better,” Louis quips, eyes flicking down to Harry’s exposed chest then lower to the hard-line of his cock before they travel back up. Harry can almost feel them tracing the stark outline of his tattoos, and he wants to shiver. Vampires don’t shiver though, so he allows the slayer to look his fill. 

“Well, you can’t blame my cock for knowing what it likes,” Harry says, grabbing his hard length to make his point. Louis glances down, his face remaining unimpressed. 

“Mine’s bigger,” Louis challenges, but instead of grabbing his own crotch, he pulls something from the back of his pants in one quick motion. The next second, his small fingers are wrapped around the wide girth of a wooden stake. If that isn’t phallic, then Harry needs to call Freud. All Harry can picture is the way his dainty hand would look wrapped around his own hard length. It would look similar, and Harry groans in response. Maybe he will fuck this one first. 

“Doubtful, love,” Harry responds, with a smirk. Louis smiles, and Harry feels like he has to squint because the brief, although obviously sarcastic, moment lights up the whole room. 

“Oh… I can tell. Mine is definitely bigger, darling.” The nickname shouldn’t have Harry’s heart threatening to restart, the dead organ jumping for a split second before it stops again. It shouldn’t make him feel like a schoolboy, but he knows he would be blushing if he had blood flowing through his veins. He doesn’t have time to consider it because Louis’ hand comes up in a flash, hitting him square in the jaw and knocking him backwards against the wall. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Harry threatens, holding his jaw for a moment then popping it back into place easily. It barely hurt. Louis just looks smug, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry watches the taunt muscles of his forearm as his sleeve rises. Is that? Does the slayer have tattoos? He definitely sees the black outline of something peeking out from under the black material. He finds himself wondering if he has more. If he can put marks on his skin alongside of them. Harry is no stranger to tattoos after all. 

“A small dick, and you use horrible one liners that the villain of every movie ever made has used. You really are quite the vampire,” Louis says sarcastically as he swings for another blow. Harry blocks that one easily, pushing himself off from the wall. 

“You know, I’ve never been one to play with my food before I eat it, but there is a first time for everything,” Harry bites back with a smirk as he begins circling the slayer. Louis doesn’t move like he anticipated. Instead he stands perfectly still, watching Harry with his blue eyes. 

“Another horrible line. Jesus Christ, you’re full of them, aren’t you?” 

“I told you my name is Harry,” he says, taking a moment to appreciate Louis’ ass in the leather pants. Harry’s fangs ache with the need to bite it. Why couldn’t an ugly slayer have come after him? Aren’t slayers supposed to be girls? He isn’t attracted to them, so why did the fates curse him with a deliciously sexy male? 

“Don’t care,” Louis sing songs, and Harry takes that moment to strike. Two punches in succession, one lands while the other, Louis dodges. He’s fast; Harry has to give him that. That doesn’t deter Harry from advancing on him, backing him further into the room. Louis blocks most of it, seeming almost bored by the fight itself. The cheeky little bastard. 

“You’re gonna care when you’re screaming my na…” Harry doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence when the air is knocked from his lungs by the force of a hard kick to his chest. He can feel his body fly across the room, finally landing and skidding on the wood floor as he lets out a groan, head hitting the wall behind him. He thinks he heard it crack with the force. Fuck. That hurt. The little slayer has powerful legs, but Harry didn’t expect to be kicked with them. 

“Didn’t I tell you to knock it off with the corny one liners? Next you’ll be spouting puns, and then I will definitely have to kill you.” Harry moans when Louis situates himself on top of him, his firm ass grinding on Harry’s quickly returning erection. The wooden stake pressed to his chest does nothing to calm it, somehow turning him on even more. Harry does love a man who can overpower him. They are so hard to come by with him being a vampire and everything. 

“Awe. You’re considering letting me live. You really do like me,” Harry says, smiling up at the boy on top of him. He resisted the urge to thrust up, his cock achingly hard now. Louis rolls his eyes, but keeps the stake on his chest, the pointed end digging in. 

“Hardly,” Louis responds, raising his arm up to deliver the final blow. It never comes because Harry uses the moment of unbalance Louis now has with an arm above his head to thrust up, easily lifting Louis and rolling him over Harry’s head. He then uses his core strength and Louis’ momentum to follow him, settling between his thick thighs in one swift movement. He pins Louis’ arms to the floor, struggling against Louis’ strength for just a few seconds. 

“You’re so feisty.” 

“Bite me.” 

“If you insist,” Harry responds, eyeing the sliver of skin that is just barely showing from the turtle neck being pulled down just a tad. Harry’s mouth waters at the very idea. 

“Eww. Gross,” Louis says, making a face of disgust, and that hurt, possibly worse than the kick to the sternum he just received. Can vampires hurt? Apparently because there is a pang in his chest at the look of disgust marring Louis’ features. Louis may as well have shoved the stake through it. Harry doesn’t know why he is so drawn to this slayer; he just feels like he knows him somehow. Everything about him is familiar to Harry, but he doesn't know why. He just knows he wants him. 

“You never know, you may like it,” Harry shoots back, covering the ache in his chest with a smirk. To prove his point, he grinds against Louis, his semi hard cock rubbing against the zipper of his jeans. It feels so good, Harry briefly closes his eyes which is a mistake with a slayer beneath him because before he knows it, he is on his back again. He thought he felt Louis’ answering erection before he was flipped, but he could be wrong. He doesn't have time to contemplate because the other man is advancing on him, stake poised above his head. Harry moves quickly, getting up from the floor to punch the slayer in the stomach. 

“Why on Earth would I like it?” Louis asks, flipping the stake in his hand effortlessly. Harry watches it with his eyes as they begin circling each other, looking for a weaknesses. Louis hasn’t even broken a sweat nor is he out of breath. Harry would like to change that. 

“Some people find it quite pleasurable. I promise, I’ll go easy on you, baby. You’ll barely feel a thing. May even come from it before you die. My fangs deep inside of you as I suck. I know you’ll taste so fucking good. I can just tell by your smell. You smell like a sunny day. I ache to pierce that pretty little neck of yours and drink the fire of the sun.” Harry’s voice is rough from arousal. He doesn’t miss the way Louis shivers nor the fact that his leather pants have become suspiciously tighter. Finally a fucking reaction. Harry was beginning to wonder if he was, in fact, straight.

“Fuck you,” Louis spits, but there isn’t any real bite to the words anymore. Harry plans to be the one to do the biting anyways. 

“I figured it would be the other way around,” Harry responds with a shrug. He really doesn’t care either way. In fact, he is considering letting this one live. He likes him. He can’t help it, and he doesn’t know exactly why however, he likes him. 

“In your dreams, Count Dickula,” Louis retorts, diving at Harry with the stake held high in his hand, going for another death blow. Harry anticipates it, dodging the move, swooping around Louis easily. Harry takes advantage of Louis’ misplaced momentum by grabbing the smaller man from behind and pushing him face first into a nearby wall. He slams his hand against the surface a few times, until Louis drops his weapon, crying out in pain. Harry keeps his wrist pinned to the wall as he hovers over him. 

“I never thought I’d see the sun again. Never thought I’d feel it on my skin,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear, breathing him in as he presses his chest to Louis back. He can feel him squirming, his ass rubbing against Harry’s poor neglected cock. Harry bites his lip to suppress a moan, tasting his own blood. It may as well be sand in his mouth, any flavor gone, suppressed by just the smell of Louis. 

“A leech like you? I hope you burn from it,” Louis spits, but Harry detects a slight fluctuation at the end of the sentence. Almost as though he wanted to groan. Harry presses against his ass harder, grinding against the firm yet forgiving globes. 

“It will be worth it to feel you,” Harry whispers, “To taste you.” Harry can feel Louis’ resolve crumble, his breath leaving his body in quick, sharp huffs that have nothing to do with exhaustion. He is still squirming, but in a different way, purposefully moving his ass against Harry’s stiff cock. 

“Fuck,” Louis murmurs, eyes closed as Harry repositions his wrists so that he can hold them both with one large hand. He uses the fingers of his free hand to hook the fabric of Louis’ turtleneck, pulling the material down. Harry watches his pulse dance beneath his skin, like the flame on a candle, quick and fluttery, but strong until someone snuffs it out with a single motion. He moves his head down to kiss the area, right over the pulse, hearing it flutter as he grinds harder against the smaller man. 

“You’ll be worth burning for,” Harry rumbles, opening his mouth wide. Louis is tense up until the moment Harry’s sharp fangs pierce his skin, and fuck, he tastes like Harry has bitten into the surface of the sun. Hot and spicy, with a hint of smoke that Harry believes he might breathe out after he’s done, like a dragon. He is already addicted to him. The slayer is like a drug, a habit and Harry has no intention of breaking. It’s like molten lava coursing through his system, making him high on power. He feels as though his body is glowing with a light only Louis’ blood can produce, his veins hot and vibrant as they show through his translucent skin. 

“Oh God,” Louis moans, and Harry can feel the tempo of the words around his fangs, the vibration sending another jolt of arousal through his system like a volcano exploding, spraying the room in lava, ash, and smoke. Louis’ blood is like liquid gold on his tongue, red hot and far too perfect for anyone to ingest, but Harry is. He can’t get enough. He will never come down from this. He doesn't want to. Louis’ limbs are limp and pliable, but Harry knows he didn’t take too much blood. He’s a slayer. He can recover from blood loss quickly. 

“Taste so good,” Harry mumbles against the sun-kissed skin, licking at the drop of blood that has trickled out of the wound. His body feels hot, as if it is burning from the inside out. That’s probably what happens to vampires when the consume the sun, but Harry can’t find a single fuck to give. If Harry dies from drinking daylight, then he will go down in flames because Harry is not giving this up. “Gonna fuck you.” 

“I don’t think so,” Louis says, and Harry is so taken aback the the comment, he didn’t expect a sharp elbow directly in his rib cage. He stumbles back from the jab, holding the sore spot with a hand watching as Louis turns around. His eyes are heavy and dark, long eyelashes covering most of their color. His lips are red from biting them so hard, and Harry finds himself desperately wanting to taste him in a different way. To see if his mouth is as addicting as his blood. Louis looks like he is torn between killing Harry and fucking him. At this point, Harry doesn’t care as long as he touches him. 

___________

Louis looks at the vampire, named Harry apparently, and tries to stop the overflow of arousal still coursing through his system from the bite. It still stings, and he feels a bit weak from blood loss, but his dick is very much alive. He had no idea being bitten by a vampire would be so fucking hot, but here he is, shaft throbbing and very much thinking about jumping the vampire’s bones. He almost came the moment Harry began sucking, the pull of Harry’s mouth on his neck went straight to his hard length. How he managed not to come was the real question here. 

Harry’s eyes are dark, lips painted red with Louis’ own blood. His chest is still, not heaving with any breaths, but Louis can clearly make out the outline of his erection through the material of his tight pants. The same one he had pressed against Louis ass moment ago, grinding while he was sucking. He is wearing a sheer blouse, the dark outline of tattoos peeking through and a long leather trench coat. Louis doesn’t think he has ever seen a sexier man, human or otherwise. Would it be against nature for a slayer to fuck a vampire? Louis isn’t sure he cares because Harry looks like he wants to devour him again and Louis find he wants him to. Jesus. 

“The way you’re looking at me, slayer, I’m not sure if you loved it or you want me dead,” Harry says, his teeth stained red from Louis’ blood, and why in the fuck does that turn Louis on even more? Louis can’t stop his body from moving as he grabs Harry and pushes him against the opposite wall. The drywall cracks when Harry’s back hits it hard, but the vampire doesn’t look fazed. The opposite really. His eyes are darker, his red mouth open in surprise and arousal. 

“Both,” Louis mutters before he dives in for a kiss. The metallic taste of his own blood on Harry’s tongue should be strange to him, but it’s not. In fact, it just makes his dick throb harder. Harry is quick to deepen it, grabbing Louis' hips and pulling him closer. Louis needs to touch him. He needs to feel his muscles flex beneath his fingertips. He grabs Harry’s leather jacket, yanking it off in one quick movement, throwing it to some unknown part of the old room. 

“Knew you’d like it,” Harry says, and Louis can feel the smirk against his lips. 

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Louis asks between kisses as he makes his way down Harry’s jawline, his hands on his torso, tracking the tattoos he knows are there. His pale skin is stretched over the muscle like canvas with the most beautiful art on it Louis has ever seen. It’s the kind of painting that you find yourself wanting to run your fingers over to feel the brush strokes beneath your fingers. He wants to find every divot, every contour, every raised scar, every single perfection and imperfection on Harry’s skin and catalog it so he never forgets. 

“Make me,” Harry challenges, pushing Louis’ shoulder hard. Louis feels the entire room shake when his back hits the cool surface of the wall, knocking the wind out of him and into Harry’s mouth. Harry swallows it, and Louis runs his tongue along the sharp tip of Harry’s fang, shuddering when he remembers how they felt inside of him. He didn’t know it was possible to feel that sort of instant arousal. 

“I could kill you and shut you up for good,” Louis threatens, gripping Harry’s hair with the comment. Harry moans loud, the low sound coming from deep within his chest. Louis almost watches it travel up his neck and out into the world, like something palpable. Louis has never wanted to touch a sound so much, never wanted to feel one on his body. He shivers when he feels Harry’s cold hands on the small of his bare back, having snaked them under Louis’ sweater. 

“You won’t. You like this too much,” Harry retorts, as he nips at Louis’ neck, big ringed fingers gripping Louis’ hip. He’s got a point, but Louis will be damned before he admits that. He quickly flips them, forcing Harry’s back against the wall. Pieces of the damaged wall behind him falls down around them like snow, white flakes speckling Harry’s black shirt and dark curls. 

“Fuck off,” Louis snaps, grabbing both sides of Harry’s sheer shirt, pulling it apart. He hears the two point seven buttons he had done up pop off one by one, flying across the room to lay with the other debris. He runs his hands down Harry’s broad chest now that it is free of the sheer fabric, the muscle flexing beneath. Harry moans at the touch, and Louis almost wishes he had a heart beat. He would like to feel it fluttering as he becomes more and more turned on by Louis’ touch. 

“I’d rather fuck you.” Louis feels Harry’s fingers at the hem of his shirt, and quickly lifts his arms, allowing Harry to slip the material over his head, leaving him bare and feeling exposed. He ignores Harry’s comment, pushing his chest against his and kissing, deliberately pricking his own tongue on Harry’s sharp fang. Harry moans when it happens, deepening this kiss at the slight metallic taste. Louis digs his fingers into the small love handles of Harry’s hips, wanting to leave marks. He rubs his hard dick against Harry’s, moaning into his mouth with the contact. Holy fuck. The smell of something Louis can’t quiet place hits his nostrils, and what? 

“Is something burning?” Louis asks, pulling away to look around, half expecting to see something on fire. He does see the faint outline of smoke tendrils as they float through the air between them and hears the distinct sound of sizzling. It’s closer than he was expecting. He looks down, finding Harry’s skin burning beneath the touch of Louis’ cross necklace. He had forgotten about it. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, pulling away quickly, but it leaves a mark in the shape of the necklace, his alabaster skin looking red and angry with the burn. 

“”S'alright. Told you, you are worth burning for,” Harry replies, shrugging his shoulders as if his words didn’t just touch some deep part in Louis that he doesn’t want to even acknowledge. Louis rolls his eyes, trying to hide his blush as he pulls off the necklace, throwing it across the room. 

“I told you to fuck off with those horrible lines,” Louis says, pushing him so his back hits the wall again, hard, more plaster falling around them. He really should have killed him. He is a vampire after all, but Louis would much rather kiss him. 

“Should have sucked you dry.” Harry picks Louis up suddenly, his hands gripping into Louis’ thighs so tightly, Louis knows it will leave bruises. His automatic reaction is to wrap his legs around Harry’s hips as Harry spins them, pinning Louis against the wall. Louis moans when Harry begins kissing down his neck, more plaster from some unknown location raining down around them. His back hurts from the constant battering, but Louis doesn’t pay it any attention because he dick hurts more. He needs some friction or he is going to go mad. He grinds his hips on Harry’s length, listening to the vampire growl with the action. Louis lifts his head, exposing more of his neck for Harry to kiss and nip at, eyes rolling back in his head as wave after wave of pleasure rocks his system. 

“Should have shoved a stake through your heart,” Louis responds, moving his hips faster. He needs to stop or he is going to come. He doesn't know if he wants to come yet, but he’s already close. He would rather come in the vampire, if he’s honest. He doesn’t pause his movements to put both palms flat on the wall. It’s an awkward angle, but he gets enough leverage to push himself off the wall, using his weight and the force to drive Harry into the ground, landing on top of him with a thud. 

“If you wanted me on my back, baby, all you had to do was ask,” Harry says, smirk firmly in place, a bloody fang barely poking his full bottom lip. It shouldn’t be hot to Louis, but his dick tends to disagree since he can feel it twitch at the sight. Louis ignores his comment with an eye roll, watching Harry’s abs crunch as he sits up, allowing Louis to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. He kisses Louis again, hungry and hard beneath him. Louis tangles his fingers in the dark curls, gripping tight to pull Harry’s head back so that he can attack his chest, leaving love bites on the tattoos residing there. They look strangely familiar to Louis, like he has seen them before, but he doesn’t think much of it because he is too busy grinding on Harry again. 

“I want these off of you.” Louis emphasize his point by manavuruing himself so that he is between Harry’s legs instead of straddling him, pushing Harry so that he is laying back down. He puts Harry’s impossibly long legs on his shoulders, and quickly unbuttons and unzips Harry’s tight jeans. In one quick motion, Harry’s dick is springing free of its confines. Louis can’t seem to take his eyes off it, watching it twitch in the barely there lighting of the room. Louis is glad he can pretty much see in the dark since he is a slayer. It’s as beautiful as the vampire and just as bewitching. 

“Fuck, Lou, if you don’t do something, I might die again,” Harry begs, voice so deep, it reverberates off the walls of the old house. Louis can almost hear them creak with the impact of it. Then the nickname registers to Louis, but he finds he doesn't actually mind. It sounds right coming from Harry. 

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.” 

“I think you’d miss me.” 

“I think you should fuck off,” Louis retorts, grabbing Harry at the base of his dick and squeezing hard in warning. Harry hisses, the sound sharp as it travels through Harry’s pointed teeth straight to Louis’ own throbbing erection. 

“Can’t do that with you squeezing my cock like that. You gotta move your hand a bit, love,” Harry says, the corner of his lip tilting up into a smirk. 

“I’m perfectly aware of what to do with dicks, 

” Louis rolls his eyes, but allows a small smile to play on his lips. Harry sits up again, cupping Louis jaw and pulling him in for another searing kiss, his tongue delving deep. Lube. They need some fucking lube, or Louis is going to come in his leather pants, which will stain. Fuck. Louis begins moving his hand on Harry’s shaft, thick and heavy with his arousal. 

“What the fuck,” Louis squeals, not expecting Harry’s hands to be on his ass. The vampire easily lifts Louis from the floor so quick, Louis’ head spins with the sudden change in perspective. Next thing Louis knows, he is on his back, with Harry looming over him. His long curls are curtaining his features, but his eyes seem to glow in the dark, green and predatory. Louis shivers. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Harry says, voice low and seductive. He leans down, strong arms propped on either side of Louis’ head as he straddles him. Louis can feel his leaking cock pressed against his stomach and suddenly, his own pants feel far too tight and constricting. He breathes Harry in, vanilla with just a hint of metal. 

“I don’t think so,” Louis mummers when Harry’s face is inches away from his. All he can see is Harry’s dark hair curtaining around them, and Harry’s eyes that seem to have an otherworldly glow. Louis should be scared to have a vampire looming on top of him, but he’s not. He’s not the least bit afraid of Harry. He is more turned on than anything at this point, his own dick throbbing to remind him of just that. 

“I thought it was already established, love,” Harry responds, warm air from the words caressing Louis’ lips. Louis closes his eyes briefly, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Then Harry grabs Louis hair, fisting it hard. Louis cries out in pain, but Harry swallows it with a kiss, sharp fangs biting Louis lip. Louis tastes blood in the next moment, Harry moaning into his mouth. It’s dirty, but Louis doesn't mind, not when Harry’s mouth tastes so sweet. 

“I think you’re sorely mistaken,” Louis whispers. At Harry’s confused look, Louis uses his strength to lift Harry up off the floor. Harry, on instinct, wraps his long legs around Louis’ small frame. Louis blindly pushes Harry against the nearest wall, the foundation shaking around them. Louis doesn't pay it any attention, too wrapped up in the vampire. His vampire. “‘Cause I’m gonna be fucking you.” 

“What?” Harry asks, confusion laced in his tone. 

“You heard me. I’m gonna fuck you,” Louis answers, pressing his clothed shaft against Harry’s and grinding hard. Harry’s red mouth opens in pleasure, his green eyes widening as he grips on to Louis’ bare shoulders with blunt nails. Louis fists his hair, coffee colored ringlets wrapping around his fingers like vines on a tree. Harry moans again, prompting Louis to pull his head to the side, biting his neck hard. He doesn't draw blood, not like Harry could, but he definitely leaves a mark. It will heal quickly, vampires always do, but at least Louis will get to see all the marks while he fucks into Harry’s body. 

“Who says?” Harry asks, scratching Louis’ back in retaliation to Louis biting mark after mark into Harry’s soft skin along his collar bones. 

“I do,” Louis mumbles. “Gonna open you up good, then I’m gonna fuck you hard. That’s what you deserve. To be fucked hard and rough as you scream my name, begging for me to always fill you up.” Louis can feel Harry swallow at his words, more precome sticking to Louis’ stomach. Louis doesn’t give Harry a moment to think about it. He drops the vampire, his bare feet hitting the floor with a thud. Louis wastes no time turning him around, pressing his chest against the wall hard. 

“Look at you. Already marked up by me. A vampire marked by a slayer. The prettiest vampire,” Louis continues, taking in the broad expanse of Harry’s battered back, bruised and scratched from the wall and Louis' own doing. Harry preens at the word, his mouth open with his face pressed against the surface where Louis had pushed him. Louis reaches into his pocket, knowing he keeps packets of lube there because a gay man never really knows when it will come in handy, slayer or not. He can tell that Harry hears him open it with his teeth, his ears twitching at the sound. 

“Fuck. Please. Need you,” Harry moans, grinding against the wall for bit of friction. Louis grabs his hips, pulling him so that he is only slightly bent forward, so that his dick is hanging hard and heavy between his spread legs. Louis wants to touch it. He wants to taste it like Harry has tasted him, but he doesn’t want Harry to come yet. So instead, he squeezes some lube onto his fingers. Harry’s green eyes are on him, his mouth open, sharp teeth gleaming in the pale moonlight filtering through the windows. 

He gives Harry zero warning, as he presses the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle. Harry is surprised by the action, his hole clenching around Louis’ finger so tightly, Louis is worried about blood circulation before Harry relaxes. He’s a vampire. He can take a little pain, Louis is sure. Plus, Louis still kind of hates him for what he is. He may still stake him after this. He should. He is supposed to. Vampires are evil, and Louis’ one mission in life is to destroy them. He was chosen for that very purpose, and now he is about to fuck one. This vampire though. He is beautiful, and Louis can’t find a single reason not to, other than he is supposed to fuck his mortal enemy. Eh… details. 

“You like it rough don’t you. Want to make this quick and dirty, so I can split you open,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear as he pushes his finger in the rest of the way. Harry just nods, eyes closed and mouth open. Louis has never seen a vampire look this desperate, but he has to admit, it’s turning him on a bit. 

“Fuck. Yes. Split--ah.” Whatever Harry was about to say ends on a loud moan, when Louis adds a second finger. It probably stings, but Harry is a vampire. He is damn near indestructible, and Louis just wants to fuck him. 

“Gonna fuck you so hard. Gonna be buried deep. You’re gonna wish you had the breath to scream,” Louis promises, moving his fingers inside Harry’s tight heat, purposefully avoiding his prostate. Harry just whimpers in response, widening his legs when Louis begins scissoring his fingers. Louis watches as they go in and out, his hole glistening from the lube. Louis is almost entranced by it, imagining his dick doing the same thing. “Love my fingers, but wish it was my dick don’t you?” 

“Yes. Cock. Need your cock. Fuck. Please,” Harry begs, but Louis doesn’t give him what he wants. Instead he adds another finger, stretching him open even more as he fucks him with his fingers hard. He could do this all night, watching his fingers going in and out at the pace of a jackhammer while the room fills with Harry’s obscene moans, screams and whimpers, but his dick is painfully hard, straining against the fabric of his too tight leather pants. Louis has no idea why he chose leather on this particular night. Must be a slayer thing. 

“You want a slayer’s dick? You want it deep inside of you? Do you want a slayer inside you?” Louis asks, pressing his chest to Harry’s back to whisper the words into Harry’s ear. He almost doesn't recognize his own voice, raspy from arousal. He thrust his fingers in deeper, crooking them just enough to graze Harry’s prostate, listening to Harry cry out in response. 

“Yes. Please. Fuck me. Slayer. Ah-- fuck me. Need it. Need you inside me,” Harry hisses, red mouth open, fangs glistening in the light, which only serves to remind Louis of what he is. Who Louis is dealing with. Louis removes his fingers almost as quickly as he shoved them in him. Before Harry gets a chance to react, Louis grabs him by his shoulders and turns him around. Harry keeps his palms flat on the wall, completely naked, his hard dick standing to attention between his legs while he gazes at Louis with lust filled eyes. Louis tries not to shiver from the intensity. He has never had a vampire look at him with anything other than hatred. He’s a slayer, afterall.

___________

Harry watches with hooded eyes as Louis slowly peels off his leather pants like a second skin. Each inch of tan, smooth skin that is revealed makes Harry’s mouth water. He knows what the slayer tastes like, and Harry doesn’t think he could ever drink any other type of blood again. Louis’ blood is made for him. His body feels hot with the liquid fire sill coursing through his veins. He hasn’t felt this hot for as long as he’s been truly dead. Usually blood doesn’t do this to him, but Louis is like drinking the sun. 

Harry has never seen a more beautiful body in all his life. His suspicions about the slayer were correct. He’s got more tattoos than Harry can bother to count right now, and Harry finds himself wanting to taste each one. To see if the compass tastes like the ocean, or if the paper airplane would make Harry feel like he’s flying. He wants to get rope burn on his tongue when he traces the tattoo on Louis’ right wrist before he sinks his teeth into his pulse point there. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna fuck me like you’ve been saying?” Harry asks in hopes to move Louis on a little bit before the slayer decides that fucking a vamipire isn’t on his list of things to do tonight. Harry definitely wants to create an established part on Louis’ to-do list if he keeps looking at him like that. As if he wants to devour Harry, not the other way around. 

“Gotta impale you somehow,” Louis responds, picking Harry up in one swift movement to pin him to the wall. Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ small hips, grunting at the impact of the hard surface on his sore back. 

“Shut up and fuck me. That wasn’t even smooth,” Harry shoots, gripping Louis’ shoulders hard. If it hurts the smaller man, it doesn’t register on his face. Harry wants to bite him again, but he isn’t going to unless Louis asks for it. For some reason, he wants Louis’ permission to taste him again. It was like a religious experience. Harry would compare it to drinking the blood of Christ, but he knows Louis’ blood probably tastes better. It holds more power. It is life itself, and Harry almost thought his heart was going to start beating, the taste of Louis’ blood bringing his body back to life. 

“Go to hell,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s ass firmly, then easily lifting him as if he weighs nothing. Harry hisses when suddenly he is sinking down on Louis’ cock, bottoming out in one swift motion. The stretch feels so good, Harry can’t seem to get enough. He doesn't want to let Louis give him time to adjust. He wants him to move because there is nothing in this world that could possibly feel better than the slayer bare inside of him. Who needs condoms when they are both practically invincible? 

“Where do you think I come from, love?” Harry asks, digging his heels into Louis ass to get some leverage so he can move his body up and down on Louis’ thick cock. Louis’ pink lips are open in a silent moan, his blue eyes wide. Harry smiles, doing it again to find a similar reaction. 

“Learn to shut that mouth of yours,” Louis replies, leaning in to swallow Harry’s response with his mouth. Harry moans into it, opening his mouth to allow Louis’ tongue entrance as he continues grinding on his hard cock. Harry’s own is pressed between their stomachs, offering just enough friction for some relief.

“I like it better when you shut it for me,” Harry says, the steady rhythm of Louis’ heartbeat in his ear. It sounds so familiar, like a song Harry has already fallen in love with but can’t remember where he’s heard it before. Harry could tell the moment Louis was turned on because his heart beat changed. It wasn’t the pace of someone that had been fighting. No. This was different. Erratic yes, but Harry could almost feel the desire between each one. He could hear the blood rushing to Louis’ cock, could almost trace its movement through Louis’ body. 

“How about I just fuck you until you can’t remember how to form words?” Louis squeezes Harry’s hips so hard, he worries the man may have fractured the bone. He can’t phyically move on Louis’ cock anymore, which is the closest to real torture that Harry has ever been. He would much rather stick his hand in a direct ray of sunlight than to stop moving on Louis’ cock. 

“I-” Whatever Harry is about to say dies somewhere between his brain and his mouth because Louis begins moving. His pace starts off relentless, syncing perfectly with the beat of his own heart. It’s hard and punishing, each thrust sending Harry’s entire body up the wall only to come back down just in time for Louis’ next. Harry screams from the sensations, Louis’ cock so deep that he is afraid it is going to puncture his heart. Thank the gods it isn’t made of wood, or Harry would have a serious problem. Even if it was, Harry would still want to be impaled on it. Some people are just worth dying for. 

“Fuck. Feel so good. How are you so hot? Jesus,” Louis moans, gripping Harry’s ass to spread him open even further. Harry feels a trace of Louis finger on his hole, and he throws his head back, banging it against the wall harshly. He doesn't feel it though. He just feels Louis dull teeth on his nipple, biting it hard. Bright bursts of color explode beneath Harry’s tightly shut eyelids. 

“Your blood. I’m hot- fuck- ‘cause of your blood. It’s like- ah- like ingesting sunlight. Should have killed me, it’s so bright. Felt good. Shit- felt like drinking lava. Made me feel so warm and- oh my god, right there- and human,” Harry stutters out, digging blunt nails into the muscles of Louis’ back and dragging them down. In retaliation, Louis bites hard over one of the swallows etched into Harry’s skin. Harry wonders if he drew blood, but doesn’t care. He probably still has Louis’ blood on his body somewhere. 

“Talk so pretty for someone with those teeth,” Louis remarks, eyes flashing up to Harry with his mouth open, exposing his teeth. Harry doesn’t miss the look of desire that flashes in his eyes. Harry wonders if Louis enjoyed the bite as much as he did. He knows the other man enjoyed it, but doesn’t know to what extent. 

“You liked it didn’t you? Having my teeth in you,” Harry tries, emphasizing his point by nibbling on his lip with a fang. Louis’ eyes flash dark again, and Harry knows he’s right. He doesn't need Louis to admit to it. Not when he can hear the confirmation between every single beat of his heart. “How did it feel? Tell me. I wanna know. How did it feel to have me inside of you?” 

Louis doesn’t answer, instead he grabs Harry’s leg, moving it up to his shoulder so that his cock can go deeper. It goes easily, since Harry is fairly flexible, and it was almost there to begin with. Harry screams at the change in angle, Louis cock hitting his prostate with every single thrust now, his pace hard and unrelenting. Harry doesn’t even feel how the harsh surface of the wall scratches his back. He doesn’t feel his long curls getting pulled by the chipped paint. He doesn't even notice the drywall raining down on them like freshly fallen snowflakes. All he can see is the blue of Louis’ eyes, the same color as the daytime sky that Harry thought he would never see again. 

“Fuck, Louis. Oh my god. So fucking deep. Shit. You feel so good inside me. So fucking good. Splitting me open. Making me feel. Fuck. Need you. Just like this. Always just like this. Please,” Harry begs, mouth open in pleasure. The change of the position though is offering no friction to his cock, and Harry could cry. He just wants to come. He wants to come over and over again on Louis’ cock. He reaches his hand down to begin stroking his hard length, but Louis is quick to slap it away, holding Harry with one arm while doing so. He doesn't even break his ruthless pace to complete the action, and that turns Harry on even more, if possible. 

“So powerful. Fuck. Blood so powerful. You’re so powerful. Like tasting flames. Should have been burned. God. Fuck. Should have been burned,” Harry repeats, going out of his mind with pleasure. He doesn’t even know what he is saying anymore. He just wants to keep being fucked like this. He never wants the bruises Louis is giving him to fade. He wants to show the world his battered back and tell them how the slayer did it. 

“Feel so good. Gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock? Nothing but my cock?” Louis asks, and Harry just nods, feeling the prickle on his scalp from his hair pulling on the chipped paint of the wall. His mouth is open, and he uses his leg muscles to help impale himself on Louis’ hard length. He doesn’t even know how he is seeing anything anymore besides stars. His vision is tunneled. He can smell the sweat on Louis’ brow, and it makes his mouth water. 

“Keep. Fuck. Just like that. Keep-- ah- k-keep that,” Harry rambles, his words not even making sense to him. He thinks he got his point across because Louis muscles flex as he doubles his efforts. Harry wishes he could see the powerful slayer right now as he holds Harry’s muscled body up to fuck into him, hard and relentless. He bets he would be glorious. Fuck. Just imagining it has Harry stepping ever closer to the edge of bliss. 

“Loved to feel your fangs inside of me,” Louis whispers directly into Harry’s ear sending shivers over his entire body. “I’ve never felt that kind of arousal in all my life. It was like flipping on a switch, and I was hard instantly. Hard for a vampire whose teeth were deep inside of me. Felt like you were sucking the life out of me, but I was gonna give it to you because I didn’t want it to end. I thought I was gonna come in my pants. Didn’t know which would come first. My death or my orgasm.” 

“Fuck. Louis. Ohmygod. Shit. Lou.” 

“Felt so good. You inside of me. It’s indescribable. Each pull of your mouth felt as though it was stroking my dick. Knew then I had to know what it felt like to be inside of you, too. Had to know what giving you my come would feel like. Wanted to know if it would feel like giving you my blood. If it would make me feel weak and powerful at the same time, a perfect oxymoron,” Louis murmurs, and that does it. Harry screams as he comes hard, his cock pulsing between them as spurt after spurt of come is released, mostly landing on Harry’s crunched stomach. His whole body is hot and feels tingly as he hits the wall behind him, needing something to do with the pent up energy in every cell of his body. He has never come so hard in his life. He’s high on it. High on Louis, and he’s never coming back down. 

“Keep fucking me. Please. Keep going,” Harry begs. He is over sensitive, his body already feeling sore from the constant abuse, but he wants Louis to keep going. Louis looks skeptical, his hips stilling. “Wanna know what your come feels like inside me. Please. Fuck me. Keep fucking me. Fill me up. Wanna be full of your come and blood. Fuck.” 

Louis nods once, his eyes hooded and on the side of desperate, probably mirroring Harry’s expression. Before Harry realizes it, he’s falling. Not metaphorically, but actually falling. The room is tilting around him, as Louis lands on the floor on top of them, barely breaking their previous position. Louis lets his leg off his shoulders, holding down his hips and begins pounding into Harry, sweat dripping off his forehead to mingle with whatever other liquid substances are there, including Harry’s come. 

Harry moans loudly, his abused prostate feeling as though it is going to explode at the rate Louis’ cock is ramming it now. His own length is already starting to fatten up again, finding Louis’ scent almost irresistible. Fuck. Harry wants to taste him again. He wants to drink only Louis for the rest of his life. He wants to do shots of the sun, then chase it with some fire. “Yes. Louis. Fuck. Just like that. Gonna make me hard again. Gonna make me come. Fuck. Want to. Want you.”

“Wanna taste you, too,” Louis says, and Harry is confused by that. He wants to draw blood? Harry’s eyes widen when he realizes what Louis meant, watching as his small finger swipe through the come on Harry’s stomach and chest. Louis then slowly feeds it into his own mouth, moaning as soon as the substance hits his tongue. His finger is wet and glistening with spit when he slowly pulls it out, and Harry’s mouth is suddenly dry. If he needed to breathe, he surely would have lost any amount of air he had been holding because watching Louis feed himself Harry’s come is sinful. 

Harry’s cock is hard instantly, and when Louis leans down to kiss him filthily, transferring Harry’s come into his own mouth using a pointed tongue, Harry almost comes again. “Don’t swallow,” Louis murmurs, kissing then biting Harry’s neck. Harry obeys, even though it is so difficult because it’s starting to work its way down his throat. Harry wouldn’t dare swallow it though, not after Louis ordered him not to. 

“Want my come, baby? Want it inside you?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, keeping his mouth closed even though Louis’ hot breath is falling on his lips. He hits the wall with his frustration, part of the ceiling falling all around them, but Louis doesn’t break his stare. A large chunk falls next to Harry’s head, and he doesn’t even flinch, too entranced by Louis.

“Drink me,” Louis demands, offering his neck up to Harry. A chill goes down Harry’s entire body at Louis’ request. Now he understands why Louis told him not to swallow. Harry doesn’t even think twice as he opens his mouth, piercing Louis’ golden sin with his sharp canines for the second time tonight. Louis moans as soon as the first drop of blood hits Harry’s tongue. 

“Oh fuck. Harry. Please. Keep drinking. So close. Fuck. Gonna come. Gonna give you my come, too. Give you everything,” Louis says, voice high and raspy. Harry can taste the words as they make his teeth vibrate. Harry pulls hard, blood rushing into his mouth from the incision, mingling with the taste of his own come, and it’s euphoric. It’s like molten lava hitting a glacier, ice cold and immovable. The flavors battle on Harry’s tongue, the salty tang of his own come fighting with the spiciness of Louis’ blood before they combine to make something that Harry can only describe as lightning. Several bolts hitting his tongue one by one until he feels addicted to the pain and pleasure of it all. 

Harry is hard, his cock is aching against Louis stomach as the slayer continues to fuck into him, his pace still unyielding. He’s on the verge again, teetering on the edge of his second orgasm of the night just from the taste of Louis mixing with his own in his mouth. Vampires aren’t supposed to go to heaven, but Louis has proven that wrong because this is bliss. A second later, he feels Louis’ cock pulse inside of him, a loud moan moving past Harry’s teeth to escape his throat. Harry’s scream is muffled by Louis’ skin that is currently occupying his mouth, the knowledge of having Louis inside of him in more than one way sends him towards his second orgasm. His cock pulses between them to the beat of Louis’ heart and suddenly, Harry feels like he is staring straight into the sun. He’ll burn. 

Louis collapses on him with a small sound, and Harry can’t help but wrap his arms around his small frame. He gets a sense of deja-vu, as if he has hugged him before, has smelled his hair. It’s strange but Harry doesn't question this unfamiliar closeness with the slayer. He just had the best sex of his life. His whole body hurts, but he should be healed for the most part in a few short hours, especially with Louis’ powerful blood still coursing through his system. 

They lay like that for a few minutes, coming down. Harry feels like he is floating, as if he is so high, he could reach out and touch the surface of the sun. He has though. He drank it. He consumed it. He used it to give him power. He can hear Louis’ heartbeat slowing down, the rhythm becoming a steady thump through his chest. Harry almost wishes his heart would beat with it. He reluctantly opens his mouth, slipping his fangs from Louis’ flesh. He kisses and licks the marks, know his saliva will help them heal more quickly. Even in his haste, he managed to bite the exact same spot he did the first time. Louis sighs, as if he likes the attention, cuddling closer. 

“Gonna pull out now, babe,” Louis mumbles, his soft, warm breath caressing Harry’s ear like a summer breeze. Harry whines and clings on to him, but Louis just laughs and shakes his head. He places a kiss on Harry’s temple and slowly moves his hips back. Harry knows he was starting to get way too over sensitive, but he feels so empty without Louis inside of him. He feels empty without being inside Louis. The bite on Louis’ neck has stopped bleeding, the wounds closing up already. Harry is satisfied with that. He would never want to hurt this slayer, not anymore. 

He watches Louis carefully as he gets up. A part of Harry is afraid Louis is going to take off in a sprint, with regret painting his face. Harry doesn’t think his cold, dead heart could handle that though. Louis gives him a soft smile, then looks around the room. Harry didn’t even realize, but most of the ceiling has fallen in around them, the walls almost caving in. They look like they are barely holding up, battered and broken from the rough sex Harry and Louis had. Harry’s body feel similar. 

Among the pieces of drywall, ceiling, and the overall disrepair the place was in before Harry and Louis even stepped foot in it, Louis seems to find what he is looking for. He picks up Harry’s discarded shirt, shaking it off. The pieces of foundation fly off the blouse, landing in some unknown parts of the room, blending in with other debris. He slowly walks towards Harry, not even paying attention to his steps despite the fact that his feet are bare. Once he reaches him, he gently wipes up the come on his stomach as best as he can with the flimsy material. Harry’s brows deepen when he sees Louis pick up his leather jacket. Well the leather jacket that he had stolen from some random dude. 

“Thought we could lay here for a bit. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable thing, but I’m not…” Louis pauses for a second, looking at Harry with soft eyes. He blushes then breaks Harry’s gaze, looking down at his feet. Harry would be holding his breath, if he needed to breathe at all. Louis sighs, then swallows, licking his lips as he does so. He brings his eyes back up to meet Harry’s, and there is an honesty there that hurts Harry’s chest. “I’m not ready to leave, yet.” 

“Me either,” Harry admits, his lifeless heart twitching in his chest as if it wants to beat for this boy. Only for this boy. Harry doesn’t understand why the slayer feels so familiar to him, and why he also feels important in every conceivable way imaginable. Harry opens his arms, and Louis smiles at him, laying down on the dirty floor next to him. Harry quickly turns over, preferring to be the little spoon. Yes. Vampires spoon, thank you very much. Louis covers them up with the leather trench coat and cuddles in behind him. It’s not long before tiredness sets in, both sound asleep. 

A few hours later, Harry wakes up to the feeling of something hard and warm against his back. His head is pounding and his body feels as though it was ran over by a mack truck. He has the strangest taste of metallic in his mouth, but he finds he doesn’t really mind it. He just has no idea what he drank to leave that kind of flavor. He had the strangest dream. He doesn't even know how drunk he was, or who he seems to have hooked up with while he was drunk. In his dream, it was Louis, but dreams aren’t real. His body protest as he turns around to see who his sleeping partner is. 

The moon is bright filtering through the window, providing the only light for him to be able to see who the mystery person is. He doesn't even know were the fuck he is, but the surface they are sleeping on is hard and unforgiving. His back is going to hate him in the morning, that’s for damn sure. His eyes haven't adjusted to the dark yet, so he can’t quite make out his surroundings, but it appears he is in some kind of old house, much like the dream he had just woken up from. His eyes finally lands on the person behind him, and his breath hitches in his throat, his heartbeat picking up. 

The first thing he notices are long eyelashes fluttering against all too familiar freckled cheeks. His gaze travels down to firm pink lips, the moonlight making them seem paler than Harry remembers. Next he takes in a scripted tattoo, one that he has wanted to trace for ages. Fuck. Was it a dream? It had to be. It was too crazy for it to actually have happened, but then he sees it. On Louis neck are two large puncture wounds with two smaller ones on the inside. The marks look like they are almost healed, closed up and not even red, but they are there. Holy fucking shit. 

“Jesus Christ. I feel like I’ve been tossed off a skyscraper then peeled from the ground only to be chewed up by a dragon and spat out because I tasted like shit,” Louis groans, his small hands coming up to rub his eyes. Harry feels the same. Harry freezes when Louis’ drops his hands, eyes locking with his. Fuck. Harry can feel the awkwardness of their situation building like some living, breathing monster sitting in the corner of the room, ready to pounce on their chest. 

“Did we-- um-- did we…” Louis’ question trails off as he swallows, eyes searching Harry's. Fuck. He can’t even get the question out. That’s how much of a mistake he thinks it was. That’s it. Their friendship is ruined. He will never be able to look at Harry the same way again. Since he regrets it, that means he definitely didn’t want it to happen. Harry’s heart sinks with the knowledge that he will never be with Louis. That their relationship was never meant to go past a friendship. Fuck. 

“Yeah. I think. I’m sorry. Fuck. Lou. I don’t know how it happened,” Harry starts, words coming out more quickly than anything resembling normal for him. “I- I thought it was a dream. I had fangs. I didn’t remember you. I thought you were my- my enemy. Me and you, I think we fought. I bit you. You still have the fucking mark. I didn’t know who you were. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ...” The words die in Harry’s throat because he doesn't want to finish his thought. They fucked, hard and rough against every available surface they could find, and they didn’t use a condom. He remembers thinking that he was a vampire and they couldn’t contract any human diseases, but still. 

“Wait. Are you saying that wasn’t a dream. That happened? I almost killed you, Haz. Fuck. What the fuck? How? I don’t understand. We fought. You- fuck. You bit me, and it felt so good. Then we--you and I-- we-- um…” His mouth was hanging open in shock and probably horror. He just fucked his friend. One that he didn’t have any sort of attraction to and wanted to stay friends with. Harry doesn’t blame him for being horrified. Harry can feel the blush rising on his cheeks. Harry can’t look him in the eyes. He is painfully aware that Louis is naked behind him. 

“There you boys are. We have been looking all over for you, worried fucking sick.” Liam’s voice breaks the tense moment, Harry turns to find the flashlight of a phone shining on them. He shields his eyes, not being used to the brightness. 

“Woah,” Luke blurts out, stopping dead in his tracks to look at them. Harry checks to make sure they are mostly covered by the trench coat. Louis throws a protective arm over him, and Harry is so very confused by the action. 

“‘Bout fucking time you two finally got over you pussy footing around and fucked. Jesus. We’ve been waiting forever. I thought I was gonna have a stroke from all of the sexual tension. Maybe Liam’s spell wasn’t a total shit show,” Niall says. Harry can see his shit eating grin in the light from Luke’s phone. 

“Couldn’t you have have picked a place a little less creepy and less…” Ashton gazes around the room, “condemned,” he finishes. 

“Hold on. What the fuck do you mean by Liam’s spell?” Louis asks, and Harry’s eyes widen. That is what Niall said. He can’t believe he didn’t catch that. 

“Oh. Yeah. Um-- I’m sorry guys. I, kind of, maybe, umm-- said a spell at the magic shop that I found in an old book. I didn’t think it would actually happen. It just seemed like fun,” Liam responds, and it is in that moment Harry notices a boy he doesn't recognize standing beside his friend. The boy has dark hair and dark eyes, he look intense with his high cheekbones and pouty lips. He does look familiar, and then it dawns on him that he was the driver of the car that Liam was attempting to save from the ‘beast’. 

“So you’re telling us that this all happened because of some magical spell that Liam accidentally cast? How did it wear off? I don’t even fucking believe in magic,” Louis says, and Harry nods along because he seconds both of those questions. 

“It wore off at 3 am. The witching hour, from what Luke found online. We were all pretty freaked out, too. I was hunting Luke because I was a Ghostbuster. I was trying to trap him in my proton pack when our eyes met. I didn’t recognize him, but he seemed familiar. He was eerily beautiful, and I just wanted to touch him,” Ashton supplies, shrugging as a way of finishing his sentence. His comment has Harry wondering if ghosts can have sex, but Ashton definitely hinted at something more happening. 

“What about Niall and Liam?” Harry asks, brows creasing together because this just seems too unbelievable to be true. He lived through it, though. He knows it is true. He really drank Louis’ blood. He really let Louis fuck him within an inch of his life. It all happened, and even though Harry is having a difficult time wrapping his head around it, he knows it to be true. He remembers everything. He remembers stealing the leather jacket. He remembers his senses being heightened. He remembers not having a heart beat. All of it. It happened, and it was real. Holy fuck. 

“Oh. I didn’t turn. I guess because my costume was punny, but I did keep having things go wrong, which I guess could be the embodiment of my costume. Anyways, I tried to keep up with Liam. After you bolted, Luke disappeared, and Ash and Lou ran after their boys, I decided to focus on Liam and getting him not to slay everything he found strange,” Niall answers, pointing at Liam and the dark haired boy. 

“How did you all find us?” 

“Location on your phone. We tracked you. Remember, we all turned it on earlier, so we wouldn’t lose each other?” Niall answers, opening his phone to show his phone screen to the boys. There were two little icons of their faces there, with an arrow pointing down. Harry had forgotten about that, but he is glad that they had it on. They would have never found them otherwise. Harry’s head is still spinning from the information, but he needs to accept that it happened. Fuck. 

“Do you all mind leaving us alone while we put some clothes on?” Louis asks, and Harry can hear the embarrassment lacing his words. 

“Of course. As long as you promise to stop beating around the bush and ask each other out. Jesus. You both have been starry eyed for each other since you met, but you’ve convinced yourself that you’re just friends. It’s honestly the biggest load of bullshit I have ever seen. Louis can barely keep his eyes off of you, Harry. Fuck. You’re like high schoolers, giggling and blushing around each other. It’s time to cut that shit out and actually start dating because this game you’re playing is getting a bit ridiculous to us on the outside. You’re obviously attracted to each other, or else your vampired and slayerd selves wouldn’t have decided that fucking was a grand idea.” Ashton finishes his short speech with an eye roll, and Harry’s cheeks are on fire. 

“So umm-- do you regret this?” Harry asks, not making eye contact with Louis once the other boys have finally vacated. 

“No. Not at all. Harry, fuck, Ashton’s right. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you. I thought you only wanted me as a friend, so I was just going to take whatever form of relationship you were willing to give. I don’t regret this, though. I remember loving every second of it. I want you, Harry. I’ve always wanted you. I just thought you were out of my league, and I was too chicken shit to tell you my feelings.” Louis’ eyes are earnest, his words honest. 

“Really? That’s exactly how I feel. Fuck. Thank fuck. Can I kiss you now, as human Harry?” When Louis nods, Harry dives in for a kiss, capturing Louis’ lips. He tastes exactly how Harry remembers, and he can’t seem to get enough. Why didn't Harry tell him everything sooner? They could have been doing this all along. Fuck. 

“We should get dressed before I fuck you again,” Louis whispers against his lips. Harry laughs, and nods in agreeance even though he very much wants to be fucked by Louis again. He gingerly gets up, finding his body isn’t that sore despite the abuse he put it through. He must have healed a lot while he was still an indestructible vampire. 

“Hey, Louis,” Harry says, picking up his jeans and shaking the debris from them. He shoves his legs in them, jumping up and down to pull them on. 

“Yeah, babe?” Louis asks, looking at him with a soft smile. Harry returns it, enjoying the sound of that particular nickname on Louis’ lips. He can definitely get used to this. 

“I’m sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face.” 

“Did you just fucking quote Lilo and Stitch?” Louis asks, with an amused smile, his blue eyes glinting in the pale moonlight. He looks breathtaking. Harry should know. Up until about half an hour ago, he wasn’t even breathing. 

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t get another opportunity like this for the rest of my life,” Harry responds with a cheeky grin. 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yeah. You’re right. No, I really don’t” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I know I had a lot of fun writing it. I have been reading supernatural romance for as long as I remember, so I feel like I've been preparing for this. Please follow me on my social medias if you want to know what other stories I am writing: 
> 
> Twitter: @Wicked_Archer  
Tumblr: wicked-archer


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